Kings & Vagabonds
by Lady Blackwater
Summary: Being royalty doesn't change the fact that good girls love bad boys. The story Disney never considered...Blackwater, obviously.
1. 1

**A/N *sigh* It's about that motherfucking time again, boys and girls. It's been a while, I know. We - we being myself and my partner/beta in crime,_ HalyconSeasons-_have returned with another fic. Blackwater, of course, cus there is no better ship to sail. Please review. I love you all. **

The most that my father ever told me about the throne was that someday it would be mine.

I think I was about six when he, Harry Clearwater, passed away, nearly immediately making my brother, Seth, the new Quiluete Tribal King once my mother passes on. I'm eleven now, and Seth recently turned twenty-seven. He is to wed soon, making his half-breed, pale fiancée, Renesmee of Forks, the soon-to-be Queen, replace my withering mother who had no business having me after thirty-five years old.

Renesmee, or Lady Olympia as she likes to be called, lives in the reservation castle with the rest of the nobles, and I guess you could say it's pretty awkward for her to sip her blood-and-wine mixture at dinner while the rest of the tribe chows on the meat fetch of the day. She seems like a nice enough person, but my dad would've had an absolute fit if he found out his son is putting a damn bloodsucker—our sworn enemy—to the throne. But because of the relationship between them two, there's peace between the vampires and werewolves until our borders meet Canada. Seth has actually grown quite fond of Renesmee's coven.

I don't mind her, but my opinion holds little worth, even as the late King's daughter. She and Seth are to wed in two months and I'm sure they're going to make another half-breed, bringing the first vampire by blood to nobility, making him or her the next King or Queen. It's sad to think that I, the King's daughter, have less of a place in the kingdom than a bloodsucker. I'd never see that throne; my dad lied. Well, damn, I didn't want to be Quiluete Tribal Queen, anyway. Getting out of this damn castle would make my day.

But, alas, I'm stuck with Renesmee for the day, having what Seth described as a "sisterly bonding day," as we arrange and select various potential wedding dresses made from the finest materials, like silk and cotton. We've already gone through about thirty gowns and each one was same as the last. Even her personal assistant, Emily, has grown tired and impatient with telling Renesmee she looked fabulous and that the dress was too fine. Renesmee isn't conceited, but she looks at herself in her room of full-length mirrors a lot.

"What about this one, Leah?" She glances at me quickly in the mirror before directing her eyes back towards herself in the white strapless dress she modeled. She does a quick twirl and runs a few fingers through her long, thin, red hair.

I shrug from my seat and take a look at Emily, who's miserably brushing out any wrinkles or creases on the gown. I turn back to Renesmee, who doesn't seem to be awaiting a verbal answer, before doing a few more poses and demanding for Emily to unzip the dress. I kind of feel Emily's pain—I'm not exactly a slave here, but I'm better seen than heard.

Multiple dresses and several meaningless compliments later, Renesmee leaves her own face alone and turns towards me while Emily shimmies her out of the dress. Renesmee and I make eye contact, and she sympathetically smiles.

"This isn't your thing, is it?" she guesses, rubbing her pale hands together while Emily bustles around, finding the next dress.

I shake my head and play with the ends of my spiraled hair. "Not really."

"You and your mother didn't play dress-up when you were younger?" she wonders, stepping off the pedestal and striding onto ground level to have a seat next to me. A fresh whiff of her vampire scent momentarily returns when she eases in towards me, making my nose scrunch. She's only got her lingerie on and it's making me a little uncomfortable, so I scoot.

"I was kind of a Daddy's girl," I answer, trying to avoid the devoted stare that my future sister-in-law is giving me.

"Oh," she replies. "I was, too. Well, I guess I still kinda am."

That's at least one thing we have in common. . .sorta. She continues to speak even after Emily returns with another dress.

"I know I'm not the most fun person to be around, but you have no idea how hard I try to get you to like me," Renesmee admits, shocking me.

"Why?"

"Because even with the Queen's approval, I still feel as if I need the baby sister's, too."

"Why?" I ask again.

She leans inward and whispers. "Between you and me, you're kinda the only one around here who isn't ridiculously lame."

I smile for the first time today. "Really?"

She nods and runs her icy fingers through my hair soothingly. "For sure."

Responding appropriately is a challenge. "Oh. Well, thanks," I say and sit up in my chair. "You really don't have to try so hard. I think you're doing just fine."

A genuine blush and a smile stretch their way across her pale cheeks. "Aw."

Emily clears her throat nonchalantly, getting our attention. Renesmee remembers where she is and then looks to me again. "Would you rather be doing something else?" she asks.

Watching grass grow sounds like fun compared to this. "Yeah."

Renesmee ponders on that and adjusts her bra strap. "I can find a dress by myself. How 'bout you go play and we can bond some other time?"

Music to my ears. "You sure?" I ask, already getting up. She does, too, and steps back onto the pedestal.

She stares at herself in the mirror. "Uh-huh," she says absentmindedly.

"Okay, if you're sure," I murmur while she distracts herself with the dress in Emily's hands.

"Bye, Lee."

I nod my head and wave goodbye before making a sly exit out the way we came in, through Renesmee and Seth's bedroom. I nearly dash down the corridors, my slippers brushing heavily against the marble floors as I race myself towards my bedroom all the way on the other side of the castle.

The second I crash through the huge double doors, I plop harshly on my mattress and let out an inhuman sound of pleasure. Man, it feels good to be back in my bed. Seth has surely lost all his marbles for waking me up at nine in the morning to help his fiancée pick out a damn dress. I'm not tired or even sleepy, for that matter, but just being in my room with my three best friends—me, myself and I—is my favorite pastime.

Then again, I'd enjoy leaving the castle for the day. Judging by the sun rays gleaming through the balcony doors, it seems to be one of those pretty and rare spring days in La Push. I hop off my bed and remove my nightgown to replace it with a sundress and a pair of Converse. My mom hates when I dress like this, but I'm comfortable and I don't need expensive clothes to prove I'm the princess.

Neither Seth nor my mother would approve of me leaving the castle so early in the morning, but I have Renesmee's permission, I guess. And besides, I'll be back from my walk before lunchtime, and I go unnoticed, like I'm already not. Passing various guards and visitors without a trace, I sneak snugly through the castle's broken bricks and eventually get out through the lowest level's rear porch, leading into the courtyard and past the fields. Lunch is to be outside today, so an array of servants is setting up tables and chairs for the family and guests. I nod and applaud some as I pass for their good work, and they bow in appreciation before getting back to work. Funny how they don't suspect anything.

I've only ever been out the confines of the castles a handful of times. I know of the vast grass and flower fields, beaches, markets, shops, department stores, schools, and downtown, but there's this place my dad always warned me about.

Before promising me the throne, he had explained the importance of the kingdom beyond the castle like taking charge and pride within everything that is La Push.

He warned me of the ghettos also known as First Beach—which is barely a beach at all. It has no fields or fabulous markets or schools. It is on the estranged side of La Push, a poverty zone for sure in great need of gentrification. What land they have on this side of the kingdom has been broken down, the result from past won wars, a sign that First Beach never bounced back. They have forests and wilderness and dirt roads and little means of civilization. This must be the shadowy place I'm never to go to, but because I'm hardheaded, I go anyway to see for myself.

It's also silent. It's dark and silent and there's the occasional hut or wood cabin.

It's a war zone, even after all these years. Why didn't my dad do anything about this? Why doesn't Seth or my mom do anything? Do they even know of this? Instead of trying to control me and put together a wedding, they should be doing something about this. It actually hurts me to see the kingdom that I am supposed to rule one day to be in such a state. It's only this way because they don't know. No one ever took the time to see, and I'll bet everyone on this side of town resents my family for what's become of their neighborhood.

The more I travel along, the more I want to turn back—but I don't, which probably isn't the best idea considering I am of royalty, giving everyone here a good reason to hate my guts.

Man, I should've bought a jacket. It's frigid out he-

_Snap._

The stench automatically makes its way towards my nostrils. It's like Renesmee's scent, but worst.

I nervously check behind me and see nothing but the mess of urban area that I've just strolled through. I keep my head turned backwards and await more noises before deciding whether or not I should turn around or keep going. I know what I should do, but it'll get me killed because I'm not even of age to phase and protect myself.

Turning forward, I'm met with stone skin and the source of the smell, shocking me and sending me flying backwards, to the ground. There's actually three of them, surrounding and stalking around my frozen body like a trio of vultures. I gulp.

"Hmph," the first one—a red-headed female—hums, eyeing me viciously. "I've never seen you around here."

The second one—a male with a blond ponytail and lack of a top—chuckles to himself as he rubs his chin in wonder, forcing us to make eye contact. "She looks awfully familiar," he mutters, getting incredibly close, making me whimper as I force the will in me to phase before I'm even able to. "What's your name, sweetie?"

I gulp again as the three vampires stare me down and wait for my answer. "L-L-L-Leah. L-Leah of La Push's Tribal Court," I manage to say, crunching a fallen leaf in between my fingers. They all burst into laughter as if I've told some hilarious joke. It's hard to tell whether or not they're messing with me.

"Leah of La Push?" the third—a black male with dreadlocks—mocks and lets out a hearty chuckle. "You're the princess?"

"Oh, lemme practice my curtsy!" the female teases and pretends to bow before me, laughing with her teeth bared, showing off how sharp they are. I squirm. "Do you have any fucking clue what we do to princesses who step outside their kingdom?" she challenges.

"Aw, man," the blond one cheers, rubbing his hands together. "Never tasted royal blood before. I'll bet it's sweet, huh?" he lurks forward, turning everything on my body as cold as them, but I don't shiver because I feel as though I'm already in no control of my muscles and the slightest move will trigger them. Do I have time to run?

"And she's a wolf, too?" the other mall interrupts. "I hear they've got the sweetest tasting blood on the planet next to humans." He thinks for a second. "You're phasing, aren't you?" he asks me before turning to his friends.

The female answers. "She's, like, nine or something and the phasing shit doesn't begin 'til, like, what—fourteen or something?"

"Th-th-thirteen," I breathe.

She snaps her fingers in recollection. "Right," she says, relaxing me almost.

"I call first bite." The blond takes his first few steps forward, causing me to squirm even more, the twigs and sticks scratching my back for sure. Why didn't I stay in the damn castle?

With a newfound rush of adrenaline, I jerk upward and run as fast my feet can carry me as the blond lunges for my neck. Panting within just feet, I begin to tear up with how fast I'm running, wishing my dad was here to save me.

I felt the three of them gaining on me because with each step, I get colder and lose my sense of direction. Confidently, I believe I'm outrunning them, but become shocked out of my short-lived life when the three of them pop back in front of me as they dangle from tree branches and lurk behind trees.

I mutter to myself and whimper softly, hoping they'll have mercy. I run the way I came back, feet getting sore while my muscles are prepared to give out. Panic rushing over me, my body flings into a crouching position near a pile of leaves, where I curl up and wait for the worst. I can smell them still and as I cry, I peak at them to memorize how hungry yet dead their red eyes are. I turn away for a second then I am forced to make eye contact with the blond male again as he taunts me.

"You're so weak," he mocks, getting on my level and snarling in my face. "You dogs are a weak race and how you ever made it to the throne is beyond me."

Whining like a puppy, I turn away. I really wish Renesmee was mean and made me stay to watch her put on those stupid dresses. That way, I'd die of boredom instead of watching myself get drained dry of all my blood.

"You're weak like your father, and you will die like your father!" the man exclaims, shaking the forest and my nerves one last time before their scent and coldness is gone like a flame being blown out on a candle.

Scared to look up, I listen. I hear more snarling, but it's animalistic. It's actually a growl.

The stench returns along with a newer yet familiar one from the opposite side of me. Glancing upwards, I take in the three vampires in a line in front of me, crouching in defensive positions, as if to guard or protect me, though they're not. At the same time, a trio of multicolored reddish-brown, auburn, and grey beasts of wolves stands high at attention on all fours, teeth bared, ears pointed, and fur on their edges. Their eyes are dark yet warm as they stare the three bloodsuckers down to intimidate them. The reddish-brown one's tail wags wildly as its huge teeth glisten with saliva as the growling continues. My form shakes.

"Ah, no," I whisper.

The standoff doesn't last long before the black male fires the first shot and lunges for the wolf in the middle, signaling the rest to attack. It doesn't look hopeful at first when the three vampires have the wolves exposed, but there's a quick shift in dominance when the three wolves use their size to their advantage. It's an absolute rumble as the six of them knock over trees and dig into the dirt. There's a lot of growling and barking involved, and all I can do is watch the scene unfold in the middle of the forest.

I try to back away, but my legs won't let me. I've never seen such a thing like this, which explains why my dad told me to never cross the border into First Beach.

Moments later, the fight dissolves into a battle of intimidation again. The three animals draw themselves in front of me just as their opponents did moments before. The cold ones just growl in defeat as they prance off with sour expressions. I watch closely as they run off, never looking back, agitated that they've lost to a so-called "weak race."

I shudder, break myself off, and sink to the ground again while I stare at the wolves before me. It's silent for a moment until they glare back me, fur going back to its shaggy state, tails winding down, and lips folding back over their teeth. I stumble as I try to stand so I can show my gratitude, but just like that, they have disappeared, leaving behind paw prints.

"Wait!" I call, tempted to run after them but decide against it. "I wanted to thank you," I say to no one, disappointed that they left without me even getting to see their human forms. Why would they just leave, knowing that the vampires could just come right b—

"Boo!"

I let out my best shriek as I jump and turn to be towered with three tall, tan, teenage boys in cutoff shorts and khakis, all without tops. They all have similar features such as dark and rustled brunet hair with brown eyes to match—they look like brothers. They even sound alike as they chuckle like hyenas at how easily I get scared. Grimacing, I cross my arms.

"That's not funny," I groan, hoping my sharp stare will make them stop teasing me.

They settle down a moment before having one last belt of laughter before standing straight and breathing again.

"Okay, okay, we're sorry, princess," the one in the middle insists and bows forward. "I'm Quil," he introduces himself and turns to his left to pat his buddy's shoulder. "This is Embry, and that is Jacob," he says, the two of them showing appreciation in bowing. I overlook them all and take in their names, their traditional tribal names.

"Pleasure to meet the three of you," I say. "Thank you for saving me."

They shrug like it's nothing. "No biggie," Quil responds modestly, waving his hands about.

"I wouldn't say so," I disagree and brush the dirt off my dress. "You three are really brave."

"If that's what you wanna call it. Anything for the King's daughter," Embry inputs. "What the hell is the King's daughter even doing around First Beach, anyway?"

"Hey, don't question the princess!" Quil pops him upside the head and Jacob laughs.

"No, it's fine," I say and fidget with my fingers. "I was just taking a walk and ended up on the wrong side of town. In fact, I must say I'm kinda surprised that you three didn't try to kill me for yourselves."

They all stare at me disbelief.

"I don't say that to offend!" I change my tone. "Um, I'd think with these living conditions that my dad has left you guys in, you'd hate me for just being related to him."

Jacob snorts but Embry explains. "Are you kidding?" he asks. "Having a tribal leader, especially a werewolf, as the King is hope for the rest of us that we can make it out of this shithole. Excuse my language," he says. I nod, taking in his words with great curiosity.

"Well, as fun as saving your ass was, we gotta get going, princess," Embry continues, and the three of them begin walking backwards into the mist of the woods, but I stop them as they wave me away.

"Wait a second!" I call and they turn around to face me.

"Yes?" Quil asks.

I stutter for a second and sigh. "In exchange for saving me, would you guys like to have lunch at the castle today?"

Quil and Embry are ready and quick to answer with excitement, but Jacob finally speaks.

"Nah, we good," he slurs, turning his back on me in a hurry. Confused, his friends scold him while I just follow behind.

"I really don't feel comfortable returning back to the palace without thanking you guys in some way," I say and nervously comb the ends of my hair with my sweaty fingers.

"Leaving and never coming back is thanks enough," he responds, not even turning to face me as he speaks. Quil and Embry both get on his ass and he just shrugs nonchalantly. Who is he to tell me where I can and cannot go? I run in front of him so he has no choice but to face me.

"Excuse me, but I'm trying to be nice," I explain, walking backwards as he continues forward, but Quil and Embry try to stop him. "You should be more respectful towards your princess," I growl.

He just scoffs and strides right passed me. In absolute shock, I push his chest and he finally stops.

"How dare you!" I exclaim. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

His eyes narrow angrily. "Jacob Black."

I stare him down. "I'd think that peasants from this side of town would be more humble and respectable towards their princess considering they don't have shit else to be respectable for. You should be praising the ground I walk on."

His dark eyes roll over. "You're just as much a peasant as me. You may be the shit over at the Tribal Castle, but you're not shit once you've passed First Beach."

On instinct, my hand does a quick motion across Jacob's cheek, resulting in an echoing slapping sound and him growling in my face while his friends have to hold him back. Suddenly feeling terrible, I clench up and gasp, hand over mouth, ready to apologize.

Before the words can even come out, there's uproar of yelling and animalistic barking from behind me as the wind is knocked out me and I'm flung into someone's arms, confined against my will.

"How dare you!" I recognize Seth's voice as he hops off my mother's white stallion to step up to Jacob while Quil and Embry cower and bow before his presence while the guard wolves surround the three boys.

"Hey, check your little princess first!" Jacob argues while Quil and Embry bring him to his knees unwillingly. Seth turns to me, showing just how much trouble I'm in when he faces them again. He stares them down a moment and sighs.

"We saved her life," Jacob continues, but Embry hits him again.

"You saved her?" Seth repeats then turns to me. "Is this true?"

I nod, not meeting his eyes.

Seth faces the boys again, motioning the guard wolves off and easing up. He scowls and switches on his heels. "May we invite you three young men to the castle for lunch as a token of our gratitude, then?"

Jacob stays silent now while Quil and Embry share a glance and return to their standing positions. "No thank you, your highness. The princess' safety is gratitude enough," Quil answers.

Seth takes their rejection better than I did by shrugging it off and mounting the horse, waiting for me to climb on as well. Before doing so, I take one last glare at the three boys and catch myself staring at Jacob before getting on the horse's back. He sternly turns away as if to blow me off, and without even saying a word, the wolves lead us back to the castle. The whole way there, I can't get what Jacob had said out of my head.

Even as Seth and my mother scold and discipline me, I replay his words and decide that ditching Renesmee and going to First Beach was the biggest reality check a powerless princess could ever need.


	2. 2

**A/N Okay, first thing: I hope everyone had a fab Thanksgiving! Second thing: Rest in peace to Paul Walker and the gentlemen driving the car...thoughts and prayers go out to their family and friends. Anyway. . .fave, follow, review. **

"Ow!"

"Well, maybe if you stopped moving, it wouldn't hurt."

"No, fuck this. I like my curly hair." I scoot away, holding my burnt right ear as Rachel fondles the flat iron in her hands, impatiently awaiting me to near her again so she can straighten the remainders of my freshly washed hair. I coyly look away and comb through the wavy side with my fingers, admiring how voluptuous they are in my vanity mirror.

"Oh, I'll bet a prince will like 'em even more. Now c'mere." She forcefully pulls me back towards her and makes a part in my hair, combs the chunk, and smoothly runs the straightener over the strands. I pout and turn away, displeased.

"This is stupid," I remark, picking at my nails and she tugs at my hair for another chunk. She sighs and combs out what she's done.

"Can't say I disagree," Rachel says and looks at me through the mirror. I wanna shake my head, but I just gesture to my hair.

"Not just the hair," I reply. "The whole meeting-with-these-random-men-for-an-arranged-marriage shit is pretty stupid. The fact that Seth is actually standing for this shit blows me."

"You were the product of an arranged marriage," she tells me, but I don't want to think about it; my mom and dad had way too much chemistry to have been trapped in an arranged marriage.

"Whatever," I mutter.

She notices my annoyance. "You should feel lucky. You get to choose your prince. Your mom didn't."

"Yeah, times have changed," I reply sarcastically and watch her press a few strands into place. "It's still pretty ridiculous that I have to do all this to just meet them. Like, if one of these guys is gonna be my future husband, shouldn't they see the real princess up front? No makeup or straight hair or anything?"

Rachel snorts and combs my back length hair. "I don't think any of those men wanna see the real Princess Leah."

"I'm nothing out of a Disney movie," I conclude while she nods in agreement. "I'm rough."

"You're a little pussy cat," she teases and flips my ear over to straighten a stray hair. The steam actually tickles this time.

I sigh. This day was bound to come at some point. I always dreaded it, but dammit, it's here.

On the morning of every princess' nineteenth birthday, she is set to get dressed and made up to meet and evaluate for several hours the kingdom's finest princes, dukes, and knights as her potential mate, as the beginning chapter of her arranged marriage. This is what my ancestors have named Judgment Day. The only way for Judgment Day to not take effect is if said princess is already married or engaged to be married by the end of her eighteenth year. Back when my dad was just a knight in the Quiluete Army, he was selected by my mom's father to be the next reigning heir for he had neither brothers nor a son.

I had eighteen fucking years to get my shit together and find myself a damn prince, duke, or knight. I had one fucking job. This arranged marriage shit doesn't fly with me, especially the hair and the makeup and the absolutely atrocious traditional dresses my mother had picked out for me.

I can't be too hard on the dresses, actually. Mom passed about three years ago, and she had told me they would've looked really nice on me. I guess.

The makeup is fucking ridiculous though. This foundation, lipstick, eyeliner, and powdery shit is also a no-no for me, but after Rachel—bless her little personal assistant heart—forced me to sit in the makeup chair until the artist was finished, I wiped off a good amount of it before slipping on one of the spring dresses my mom liked, as well as a pair of heels. I'm already tall enough, so what business do I have in Stilettos? The jewelry isn't too bad, but the diamond and pearls definitely weigh me down. I feel as though the Indian princess headband throws the whole glamour look we were going for off, but it's tradition to wear it for Judgment Day.

After deciding I look nice enough, Seth escorts me down the concrete steps to the courtyard where the party is to be held. I use the word party very loosely given the music the band is playing is smooth jazz while a mile long line of Prince Erics and Prince Charmings have their heads bowed and hats off at my presence. The attention is nice, but what the actually hell did they expect of me?

"It'd be nice if you'd smile," Seth advises me through gritted teeth as he pretends to beam ear to ear as we take each careful step down into the courtyard of clapping guests. His grip on my hand increases. My ensemble and this fake smile on my face are the only things reminding me that it's not ladylike to slap the shit out of my brother.

I wave to the guests and groan. "It'd be nice if you'd shut the fuck up," I mutter.

He rolls his eyes but keeps his jolly façade. "You better be glad all these people are here 'cause if they weren't, I'd slide your ass right now."

I keep smiling even when he hands me off to the first victim.

The first few hours of Judgment Day is the meet and greet, where basically all these princes and dukes or whoever was verified a visit to the castle to meet me get in a line by alphabetical order, one by one, to introduce themselves and make a first impression. Within the first fifteen minutes, I've met men from various nations, nearly all of them claiming to be of Native American descent or ethnicity, which would have made my dad really happy. There are a few white guys and even some black guys, but after being greeted with a bow, a kiss on the hand, and "Hello, princess. My name is. . ." from them all, they all look and sound the same. Rachel estimated that at least sixty-something guys showed up.

A quick mingle follows, which soon transitions into lunch, where the sucking up and trying too hard comes into full swing. After eating, I am to stroll on a guard's watch around the courtyard and beyond into the backyard where each prince, duke, or knight takes this opportunity to impress me. Even while being serenaded and given countless birthday gifts, all I really want to do was eat some chocolate cake and sleep until I'm twenty-one so then I can drink. Seth and Renesmee and the other members of the royal family look like they're enjoying themselves, chatting and entertaining with the other guests.

After the lunch, it's time for the Judgment Dance, where basically the dance floor is cleared and the king and the princess start with their basic one-two-step ballroom routine and she is then suavely passed off to the first of many men who will sway her with their dancing. Dancing and rhythm are a huge part of the Quiluete culture, but somehow it's been modernized to ballroom bullshit with classical music from a harp when back in the day it was ass-shaking and drumbeats. Seth is still trying to grow accustomed to this shit, too, because he constantly steps on my toes before twirling me into another prince's arms. The dancing makes me dizzy, especially with the twirling and feet combinations mixed with each dude trying to whisper sweet nothings into my ear. I don't even have time to get aroused before I have to be passed off to another. Each prince gets a maximum of two minutes to impress me before they are required to pass me off, unless I instruct them otherwise.

Each man is respectable and handsome in their own way, which is why I want to send them all home to find a wife the real way. I'm not wife material, anyway, and whatever I'm looking for in a prince or duke or knight… none of these guys have got it. All I've heard all day is, "You look beautiful, princess," or, "I can love you like no other, princess," or, "You already mean the world to me, princess." None of these guys are my type, if I even have one. They're all so nice and that's cool or whatever, but after being lavished and pampered and silenced in the kingdom for eighteen years, I'm tired of nice. I'm tired of being treated like a fucking china doll that will shatter into a million pieces if dropped. I'm tired of everyone stopping in their tracks and begging for forgiveness when I complain in the slightest. I'm especially tired of being put on such a pedestal as the princess then feeling powerless in this kingdom. If I'm so valued around here, then I should be able to find my own damn husband. Fuck, I don't even want a husband! I want to lose my virginity, fuck around, and be a little slut then find my husband.

I don't want a damn prince. I don't want to be this if I can't be powerful. I wanna be his equal, whoever he may be—if he'll even show up.

"Doesn't really look like you're having that much of a good time, princess."

I look up from the unattractive piece of birthday cake on my plate and lock eyes with whoever is speaking to me.

He smiles at me sincerely, and somehow, I feel systems in my body shut down.

_Holy shit, he's attractive._

"Eh, not the ideal birthday," I respond, barely meeting his brown eyes as he takes a seat at my empty table. He comes in closer and looks down sadly at my pitiful excuse of a birthday cake. It's not that it's not pretty; it just tastes like organic shame.

"What'd you have in mind?" he asks, leaning in, removing his hat, and gently lifting my chin with his two fingers to let our eyes meet. In that moment, every other function on my body stops and I drop my fork to my plate. He waits while I get myself together.

"I wanted to just relax and, uh, stuff."

He catches onto my nervousness quickly, but continues to smile, anyway. He has one of those cute open-mouthed side smiles that shows off the top row of his teeth and a peek of the bottom and it makes me wanna just take him to my bedroom and strip him of his uniform.

"Sounds fun," he says. "You're not into the party thing, huh?"

I scoff. "Define party."

He thinks a moment and outstretches his arms towards the backyard.

"You think _this_ is a party?" I ask. "You've been in the Army too long."

He laughs lightly and taps his General hat. "Proud to serve La Push when there's such a beautiful princess to protect."

_Lemme take your clothes off._

I feel my face getting red and heated. "Beautiful," I repeat, and he nods.

"I would've never made the trip if I hadn't known you were so gorgeous. I've seen you on TV a bunch of times, and the thing I find most beautiful about you is your bright, distracting, hazel eyes. I've never seen such a thing on a Quiluete native."

I always found my eyes as a curse. "I get that a lot."

"And," he clears his throat and checks around before leaning in even further and whispering softly into my ear. "Forgive me for staring, princess, but you probably have the most exquisite body a man has ever laid eyes on."

Someone notices. I finally smile. "I never caught your name."

He looks offended. "I introduced myself earlier."

Tracing my steps, I try to remember his face out of the sixty-something men who introduced themselves to me a few hours ago. I shake my head and shrug.

"Drawing a blank. Sorry."

"Oh," he responds and stares at me for a moment. "I guess that's fair. I'm Sam. General Sam Uley of Forks." He gestures for my hand and when I give it to him, he bends forward to kiss it. "Do you wanna dance?"

My eyebrows fly upward as he stands up, my hand still in his. "You're asking me to dance?"

"Or would you rather sit here and stare at that cake?"

I glance at the cake and nearly break my ankle hopping out my seat and having him lead me to the dance floor. The basic ballroom shit is still in effect as we slide and glide with grace over the courtyard floor while the band plays a classical piece. He's smooth in how he moves, and he doesn't step on my feet, meaning he has coordination. He's a perfect gentleman as well as he keeps his hands above my ass and leads me around without dominating me. I rest my head on his chest when the music slows and the setting gets dimmer. The sun is finally going down and the sky is a perfect display of oranges, reds, and light blues while the clouds follow aimlessly in the direction of the descending sun. As it gets chillier, Sam holds me tighter and offers me his jacket. I accept it and enjoy how good it smells as we step in sync across the floor. I catch Rachel and the rest of the castle's help watching and giggling with joy as they report to Seth and Renesmee, who are still tending to guests as they begin to depart from the event.

For the first time in a while, I feel kind of hopeful.

I fancy General Sam Uley of Forks.

He's everything my father would've liked and then some. Well, I shouldn't speak too soon since this is only our first time meeting, but we've had more of a connection than any of the other men here. I kinda like him; he seems cool and suave and he's a General, so that means he's a leader. Shit, and he's hot as fuck, too.

The Judgment Day festivities wind down at about eight o'clock when the majority of our guests have left, and seeing as I am fixed on Sam, so have the other men who came for my hand. Sadly, Sam has to return to Forks for business, but promises to make the trip back to the castle soon so we can spend more time together.

Okay, so Judgment Day didn't go horribly. The fact that I had to meet Sam this way still kinda sucks though. Jeez, I whine a lot. I met this seemingly amazing guy today and I still can't quit bitching. I guess it's just in my nature.

That night, I sit in a lounge chair on the balcony and stared at the stars, as cheesy as that seems. It relaxes me and it's a good pastime for when I can't get to sleep. Last I checked the clock, it was only ten-something, so it's quite early.

The thought of actually marrying Sam sends a pleasurable shiver up my spine. I'm actually a bit impatient to see him again.

I hear Rachel's footsteps from all the way down the hall before she even slides open my balcony's glass door and takes a seat in the accompanying lounge chair. Her hair's up and her nightly face mask is smeared evenly all over her face, showing she's done doing anything for the night. I return her smile when she grins my way.

"I guess you enjoyed your day."

I smirk. "So?"

"What's his name?"

"Sam. General Sam Uley of Forks."

She notices my new found prissy tone and groans in mock annoyance. "So I'm guessing you dig this guy?"

I shrug sheepishly and hide my face.

"I'll take it as a yes."

Revealing my face again, I can tell it's beet-red. "He's just a cool-ass dude."

"Did you even attempt to talk to any other men there?"

"Aren't they the ones who're supposed to talk to me?" I correct her, and she rolls her eyes.

"It's the twenty-first century. A girl should be able to approach a guy with just enough balls. And it's not like you had to be afraid he wouldn't be into you."

I let that sink in. She has a point.

"He didn't even seem your type," she continues and begins picking off her chipping nail polish.

Confused, I turn to her and open my mouth to speak. "I have a type?"

She hunches her shoulders. "You're a _good girl_. I can see you fucking around with a hood dude. Like a complete bad boy who's tatted-up, with a dark past, cold heart, and a rough time with trusting others. I'm talking a real-ass _thug_."

I picture Sam as she described. The thug thing doesn't suit him. Rachel grew up near First Beach and she dated one of these thug types until deciding to serve in the castle, so it's obvious as to why she finds that attractive. Rachel is a good girl, though you can take the girl out of the hood, but not the hood out of the girl.

She rolls her eyes and sits forward to stare at me in disbelief at my less than aroused expression. "That doesn't turn you on?"

Shaking my head, I continue to ignore her look and stare at the sky. "You'd choose a General over a thug?"

"Depends," she answers and looks down. "You can't let the uniform fool you. A General as nice as Sam could still be a thug under the Army pins. Everyone is a thug when it comes down to it."

"I'm a thug?"

She smiles at me using the word so delicately. "You're a freak. The right dude just hasn't brought it out of you yet."

Shit, she's probably right. I don't know of anybody who could bring that freak part out. No one in the kingdom would take the initiative or risk of messing with the virgin princess. I think Sam would be patient, but as said before, I don't want a nice boy. I wanna be bitten, put up against a wall, and have my hair pulled.

Just thinking about it makes me a little uncomfortable, especially around Rachel, who's had her promiscuous days. I tell her goodnight before going back into my room, brushing my hair, and putting on pajamas. I'll just take a shower in the morning. Even as I try to sleep, I attempt to visualize myself with a thug. If I want one of those, I'll take a visit to First Beach. Chuckling to myself, I clap twice to knock the lights out and fantasize into a deep sleep.

The following morning, I wake up half an hour before my alarm sounds. It's Sunday, meaning the Royal Family and guests go to church for about an hour and has brunch in the courtyard to discuss weekly events. I've never been too thrilled about church since I'm not as religious as my parents were, but today seems like a great day to praise the Lord, if there is one. I had a great night, and an even better dream followed.

After basking in my morning glow, I take a quick shower to wash my hair, bringing it back to its curly state, and get dressed in a summery dress even though it's nearly fall. I consider makeup, but decide against it. I skip barefoot through the hallway to the main hallway, which leads into the kitchen, greeting everyone happily on the way. It annoys Seth that I eat before church, but a piece of toast never killed anyone.

Awaiting my toast to pop out of the toaster, I go over yesterday's events and take in the fact that I might actually have potential with someone, especially someone as great as Sam.

Hmmm. . . Queen Leah Uley of La Push has such a snazzy ring to it.

Absentmindedly twirling a butter knife in my hands, I am distracted with thoughts of Sam when one of our castle attendants rushes into the kitchen—almost relieved to see me—holding a medium sized, cardboard package in his hands carefully. He smiles graciously and bows forward, presenting the box to me. Before doing anything, I read the side to see it's from Forks and nearly cut myself stabbing the butter knife into cardboard. The package rips open instantly, and I set it on the kitchen island, barely thanking the attendant as I tear the package apart.

Reaching inside, the first thing I feel is a sheet of paper. I pull it out and flip it over to read it.

_Dear Princess Leah of La Push,_

_Last night was one of the greatest nights of my life and it would be a grand pleasure if you would accompany me to dinner tonight in my quarters of the kingdom. I hope to see you soon, and I hope you enjoy this gift as a start of a beautiful relationship._

_With love,_

_General Sam Uley_

Excited, I put the letter to the side and reach inside the box and instantly feel the velvet of a jewelry box. I pull it out and gasp at how fine the packaging material is. He must've spent next month's rent on me.

I open the box and gasp yet again at the necklace within.

Wow.

My toast pops out of the toaster but I don't even stir to look up at it.

I doubt a thug could do me like _this._


End file.
